Liquorice Allsorts
by Schermionie
Summary: Started as a drabble, freeverse and oneshot collection. Now complete at twenty-five unrelated stories: Vincent Crabbe; Nine confessions of love; Bill and Victoire; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny; Pansy/Seamus/Daphne; Dennis/Gabrielle; Nine atonements; Ron/Astoria; and Bellatrix Lestrange. If you like variety, come on in...
1. Vincent Crabbe

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything that is spectacular. And I? I am but a penniless fanfic writer who can only tell the truth. _Harry Potter_ is not mine, and never will be.

Challenge Name: Characters and Prompts challenge

Challenge Issuer: xCyaniide

Where?: Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum

Challenge: Pick a Character number and a Prompt number and write something with them. My character was **Vincent Crabbe** and my prompt was **A remarkable experience**.

Notes: So! A drabble/oneshot type thing series collection, eh? Not all of them will be challenges, but many will be. I hope you'll enjoy this start to the collection. :)

* * *

A remarkable experience?

Vincent Crabbe couldn't say he'd had one. Couldn't say he knew what one felt like - except maybe by parroting the words of his yearmates, who would reluctantly part with _their_ remarkable experiences during hushed, secretive games of Truth or Dare and I Never. Vincent didn't participate in those anyway, on guard duty with Gregory instead, but he heard most of what was said.

Would you... come to the Ball with me?

The borrowed words were supposed to accompany a rush, a feeling, were supposed to be some kind of experience to remark on when it was over; whether the outcome was good or not, it was expected to be much discussed later on. But instead he felt... nothing much. The words were gravelly and reluctant in his throat. Nothing much. Perhaps at the rejection he felt just a faint relief, but then apparently he was supposed to be something called _dejected_ or _wounded_ or _too proud to care_, as he'd heard Pansy whisper to Daphne about Draco. Whatever those words meant, he couldn't say them when it came to it. Couldn't feel them, either, though he got the sense that that was less important. It was all about what you did and said, not what you wanted or needed or thought.

Had he ever been awed?

He couldn't say that, either. From birth he'd been around magic and, sure, he'd never been particularly _good_ at it (he'd never been good at much, come to think of it, except maybe scaring people), but he was used to it. There was nothing remarkable about it. As he'd heard Blaise say once, Hogwarts was a let-down when they finally got there. You've got a wand. Now what? That's how it was. He'd learnt the word 'awed' from an essay of Hermione Granger's they'd got hold of once, and mocked endlessly. He'd not understood much of it, but he'd found out the meaning of that word and kept it to himself, something to treasure all on its own, something that was _his_. Vincent had always had a tendency to covet and obsess, and maybe that was why...

Vincent, what is the meaning of this report?

Well, what was the meaning of _anything_? Vincent was not inclined to ask such questions, but towards the end school had become such a drag, so _unimportant_. He was unremarkable at school work and so school was unremarkable to him. His parents' questions about his bad marks were easily brushed aside when nothing he did seemed to _shine_.

Until now.

Until they stood in that accursed classroom and he really thought about how much he _hated_ it all. Nothing was remarkable or interesting for Vincent Crabbe, and he hated them all for it, hated them all for experiencing the things that he'd never had.

Until now.

Because it turned out _hate_ was remarkable in itself.

Vincent suddenly wanted to shine - suddenly _could_ shine. He'd practise for hours and hours and hours on end, on objects first of all, or just the wand movements or that delicious word, not needing to force it from his lips because it felt so natural; then on animals he'd trapped; then on people he'd managed to coerce, on his fellow students, fellow housemates even - he'd hurt them all.

_Crucio_. No longer reluctant gravel in his throat. No longer nothing much. No longer unremarkable day after unremarkable day: no, no - _no_, the power he could wield was _his_ remarkable experience.

That one little word said it all for him.

_There's a reason being full of awe is a bad thing._

And the people whom he hurt, once so doubting of him, were awed by the power he wielded.

Once they stopped screaming, anyway.

_Just watch them squirm, Vincent, just watch their eyes _shine_ with tears._


	2. Confessions of Love

Summary: Nine 54 word 'drabbles' centring around confessions of love.

Notes: This is for Professor Flitwick's Prompt of the Day at the Hogwarts Online Forum. It was April 28th's prompt, 'Confessions of Love'. I claimed it and wrote it on time, but I've delayed posting until now, so I won't be getting any points for Hufflepuff... well, no matter. That's not why I wrote it. Why 54 words? Because when you give each letter a number, e.g. 'A = 1', 'B = 2', etc, and add up the letters of 'love' you get 54. 5 + 4 is 9, so nine drabbles.

I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

"I... am a wizard," confesses Nicolas. "Everything you fear."

"...No," says Perenelle after a wrenching pause, the kind of pause that makes you wish you could take back all that's been said, "you are my husband."

But then sometimes it's the things that _aren't_ said that ring loudest.

_I love you. _

_I love you_.

* * *

"And does the accused have anything more to say?"

To Percival, it's the indirect address, that note of dismissal, that is the sentence, what makes his desperate sacrifice reality. He turns his eyes to Kendra where she sits watching him, blank-eyed.

"Only that I love my children, and would do anything to protect them."

* * *

"I _loved_ you, you know," Myrtle tells Tom, even though she'd actually thought him too cold.

But she's dead, so why not be wicked? She will confine herself to schoolgirl crushes, to the act, the deception - she will haunt, and she will haunt well.

Still, secretly she knows some of her tears are real.

* * *

Cards, flowers and flattery. Little Valentine's Lines: mini chocolates: white lies and small favours. Offered. Rejected.

So Andromeda moves on, is wooed by Ted Tonks in that same quiet way, and she's happy... Vain as Lucius is, it's easy to kid herself that he must just have wanted _blond_ children. Cards burn easily, too.

* * *

It's not James who confesses last, but Lily.

It's Lily who swallows her pride and admits that, yes, things have changed. It falls to Lily to do the _final_ hand twisting, the braving the blowing-my-hair-across-my-eyes breeze as they stand by the water on the stifling day.

"I know we've had our arguments, James, but..."

* * *

"You're too beautiful for the Bendles to attack," Xenophilius assures his shy daughter, instead of begging her to stay. Let Hogwarts be protection, he wishes, against the gnawing loneliness we share. Let Luna feel my love, but outgrow my grief.

Let me be able to tell her, one day, how much I love her.

* * *

"I don't think... I trusted you all, either," Remus admits, lost, remembering - but not so lost he doesn't feel the heaviness between them lift, fractionally.

...Might confessing these hard facts actually be _cathartic_?

"It was hard to say how much I _cared_."

Sirius closes his eyes. "So you never said anything, and we thought..."

* * *

"I love the hard work," explains Neville as he weeds his garden, completely in his element. "There's no satisfaction in getting something if you don't want it enough to strive for it."

Hannah throws the weeds into the waiting wheelbarrow and smiles. Maybe there _are _others who understand what Hufflepuff stands for, after all.

* * *

Lily doesn't know where Teddy learned to dance, but he can. "You're fantastic!" I love -" but then she stops: she can't say _that_.

Teddy nudges her forward again because the music is still going. "You're a really good dancer," she compromises quietly.

Suddenly the age gap doesn't matter so much because he's blushing, too.


	3. Bill and Victoire

**Notes:** This for the 6th June Hogwarts Online prompt 'strawberries'. My thanks go to** tat1312** for the help.

* * *

Victoire is just so different (_gifted_, says the paediatrician), and from a young age, she feels it. She doesn't want to play with the other children, and they don't want to play with her. She's beautiful in this proud-but-unconscious kind of way; already, Bill just _knows_ the boys will fall over her.

It's not easy being different, and one day, while Victoire is standing on the edge, he goes up to her and says, "You look like the sky's just fallen down around you."

Their way of saying, "Are you alright?"

His little girl just shakes her head. "Daddy, what do you think of strawberries?"

_The fruit that everyone likes_. Teddy had said that to her, Bill remembered, when he gave her the strawberry she'd looked so doubtfully at.

Bill also remembered her disgusted expression as she ate it, and though it's a lie, he says, "Don't worry, Vic. I don't like them, either."

After that day, he never eats a strawberry again.


	4. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny

Notes: This was for the HO prompt 'rivals'. I've been asked to write a canon R/Hr & H/G fic for my homework there, and this was me trying to get into the mood for it. Just a light-hearted little drabble that I hope you'll enjoy.

* * *

Harry and Ron are rivals as they de-gnome the Burrow's garden, a favour to Molly, and avoid getting bitten by the nasty pests. Neither of them know it yet, but they are rivals.

"Oi, Harry?" asks Ron, wiping sweat from his brow, caught by the ailing autumn sun. "Do you think we should ask Hermione and Ginny to help us out with this?"

Harry considers it. "Nah, they'd just laugh."

Ron looks crestfallen. "But -"

"Unless..." interrupts Harry, frowning, "...unless we make it seem like some kind of competition... me and Ginny against you and Hermione."

Well, now they know it.

.

Hermione and Ginny are rivals as they sit in the Burrow's garden during the hot, hot summer, talking about the weather, their husbands, and the small fact that they are both heavily pregnant and feeling it. Neither of them know it yet, but they are rivals.

"...Hermione, who do you think will give birth first?"

Well, now they know it.


	5. PansySeamusDaphne

**Thanks to**: tat1312 for looking this over.

**Notes**: This is my answer to a drabble request from XxrandomxX at HPFC. She asked for a Slytherin/Gryffindor pairing with the prompt '"Who said anything about love?"', though somehow it became more of a love triangle than a pairing. Perhaps I love Daphne/Seamus far too much to write a pure Pansy/Seamus.

It is also a response to the HO prompt 'taste'. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Who said anything about love?" asked Seamus with a typical cocky grin.

Daphne didn't even bother to shush him. Until he'd strode in one day – her first day here, in fact: day one of phase pissing-off-her-parents with unsuitable profession – Daphne hadn't thought he even knew what a library was for, let alone that he would want to walk into one.

Turns out she'd been right. She'd turned him away that day because she'd already had her break, and anyway, didn't really want to talk to him. She'd surmised from their quick talk, however, that he was here because he had no idea what to get Pansy for Valentines Day, and had actually become desperate enough to think that she would be able (want) to help him. Not for the books – for her. And then he'd come back two days later, again asking for her help.

Daphne hadn't even known they were dating, but she wasn't surprised. After the war, phase pissing-off-one's-parents had become quite fashionable in pure-blood circles (a sort of survival reflex, really, to show that one was not the apple close to the tree – though perhaps it was more the taste of the forbidden that _appealed_). What worse choice than a half-blood Gryffindor? Well, a Mudblood or Muggle would be _worse_, but Pansy wouldn't go _that_ far. Daphne had had no idea what Seamus's motivations were for sure, but she'd pretty much guessed that he was in it for some fun. Ah, Pansy Parkinson: a true ugly duckling indeed. At school she'd attack you soon as look at you, but she had now – apparently – transformed into a beautiful and graceful swan.

Not quite so beautiful and graceful as Daphne's dear baby sister, however, who since leaving school had had to fend off more than her fair share of suitors (while subtly encouraging them, of course). Well, Daphne was having none of _that_. She'd marry when she wanted to, and only then... and right now, that was looking to be at least four years in the future. Men would not take her in while she was enjoying her post-war freedom, should they even want to.

That didn't mean his damn cocky smile didn't make her heart flutter, though.

Nor did it mean she wouldn't tell him to get _the_ completely_ wrong_ colour robes for Pansy – though that was probably less jealousy and more that she'd _pay_ to watch her dear friend's reaction upon receiving them.

...besides, if Seamus Finnigan wanted to date Slytherins, he'd better get used to this kind of thing.

She was only helping him out – just as he'd asked her to.

That was all.


	6. DennisGabrielle

Challenge: Drabble Tag!

Where? The Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum

Notes: This drabble is for **tat1312**, who requested a Dennis/Gabrielle fic with the prompt 'pretend'. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure about it, but she asked me to post it so she could review, so here it is.

* * *

It's really silly when she thinks about it, because they've only met twice and they're rarely even in the same country. Still, his bright-eyed eagerness directed at life rather than at her has left a lasting impression on Gabrielle, and every time she goes to England, she conducts imaginary conversations with him, imagines bumping into him and dazzling him completely.

"I'm sorry!" she would say;

And Dennis would squint at her and say, "Don't I know you?";

And there would be this spark.

* * *

Reality's quite different to dreams, though, and when they do meet it's not even in England. He bumps into her in a Parisian market place, of all the places, and she's the one squinting; the sun is in her eyes, and when they talk - a brief apology because his French is awful - she doesn't recognise him.

It's only when he turns around and starts walking away, mind already on other things no doubt, that she realises; before she can think about it, she calls after him in English.

He turns back to her, surprised, and she falters, because he doesn't look like the Dennis of her imagination: he doesn't stand as tall as she had thought he would. He doesn't look at her in recognition.

"D-don't I know you?" she asks feebly.

Because there is no spark.

It is not the same as she has imagined, and now, confronted with the truth of her illusions, Gabrielle can no longer try and fool herself. The truth is clear: she is just stupid - pathetic - and has been for too long.

But then he grins and she sees his eyes and they're the same shining brightness as they were, and he says, "Gabrielle Delacour?" like it's a name he loves to say.

_...Okay_, she thinks shakily. _Maybe there might be a spark._


	7. Atonement

Challenge Name: Challenge: Atonement

Challenge Issuer: Jay FicLover

Where?: HPFC

Challenge: To write about characters making atonements for their sins.

Massive thanks to: **tat1312**, whose help with this fic was absolutely invaluable. Without her help, this wouldn't have ever seen the light of day.

Summary: Nine 107 drabbles with the theme of atonement.

Notes: Why 107 words? Because when you give each letter a number, e.g. 'A = 1', 'B = 2', etc, and add up the letters of 'atonement' you get 107. 'Atonement' is a nine letter word, so nine drabbles. So basically, this works on a similar principle to chapter two of this fic, only I had 53 words extra. Oddly, this was a lot harder! I think I would have liked more words for some of these drabbles because the theme has such potential, but at the same time, working with such a tight limit really pushed me as a writer. It was fun.

This is also a response to a personal challenge from tat, who asked me to write an R/Hr fic with the Pablo Neruda poem 'Always' as my prompt - which of course belongs to Pablo Neruda and not me. I'm afraid I only gave her a drabble and an extract from the poem (the '...' mark where I left bits out), but I hope she likes it. And I hope you all like it, too. :)

* * *

Bartemius was a career man. A man who had wanted the best life for his family: financial security, good prospects, respect...

His wife was different, however, and when he saw the blood on her handkerchief, he finally started to understand that.

He'd rationalised it. He'd blamed other people.

But perhaps _he_ was at fault for their son's... 'rebellion'.

...no. No, no. NO.

Even so... _she_ still loved their son. She still loved _him_, too, despite how often he'd put his career before her. Despite how much this must have made her suffer.

...Now she could suffer no more.

"It's for your mother," he tells Barty, "not _you_."

* * *

Neville doesn't name his daughter Alice.

Many people are surprised; and though _Hannah_ understands his decision, Neville can see why. His mother sacrificed a lot for him.

But then, so had a lot of people.

He'd apparently borne it with good grace, and Neville had _tried_ to be a good child. Even so, he'd had his tantrums; he'd caused problems; for a long time, he'd been a _disappointment_.

And there'd been times when he'd acted up purely because he didn't have 'normal' parents and 'everyone else' did.

He looks at No Name, five days after her birth, and finally decides.

"Augusta is a better name for you."

* * *

His grandchildren are over.

They've played outside for most of the day, so they're almost too tired for a story.

Almost.

His stories are more like fables. The characters are Crupps, Neazles, Knifflers, Hinkypunks... Every story has a lesson behind it.

Be loyal.

Be sensible.

Material wealth isn't everything.

Don't ever lose your way.

("Especially that!" he'll stress; and then he'll look reproachingly at his son.)

His favourite one is 'The Centaur and the Unicorn'.

Have pride, but do not be blinded by it.

It's the story he tells today, hoping they won't inherit this shortcoming; afterwards, the children fall asleep, and

.

Amos Diggory jolts awake.

* * *

She'd never really known Remus. Oh, they'd met; and oh, Dora had talked about him - how she'd talked!

Memories of the _Are-you-sures_ and _Yes-of-course-Mums_ make Andromeda smile through her grief. There are so many feelings behind the smile that she's not sure where the pain begins and ends.

Harry is little Teddy's Godfather, and everyone knows Harry holds his family closest to his heart.

Yet part of their closeness is her own doing.

She'd never really known Remus... but Harry had.

And little Teddy... he needs the knowledge that Andromeda - always reluctant to let people in - had failed to collect.

(She hopes Dora's watching.)

* * *

"Under the old management, I think I became a little... misguided."

No simpering. No whimpering. No affectations.

This has to sound like the truth -

"However, I think you'll find that before this assignment, I had never once failed the Ministry. The decision is _completely_ in your hands, but I really _do_ want the opportunity to atone for my sins. With another chance, I could... return to the beginning."

- even though she's lying. Her only failure was not finishing the job properly. She's done nothing wrong, so what need is there for repentance?

(Dolores does pity Fudge, but only briefly. For the ambitious, survival is everything.)

* * *

After they've had a row, Ron inevitably ends up wondering why she's with him. He never says things the right way, even though he knows what he _wants_ to say to her.

.

"I am not jealous

of what came before me.

Come with a man

on your shoulders,

come with a hundred men in your hair,

...Bring them all

to where I am waiting for you;

we shall always be alone,

we shall always be you and I

alone on earth..."

.

Hermione's finished reading - and she's smiling now. "Did... _you_ write this, Ron?"

"Well, no," says Ron, ears reddening.

But she's not stopped smiling.

* * *

Dudley isn't sure what's come over him.

Maybe it's fear. Maybe he's so afraid of everything, he just wants some kind of 'good deed' to boast of.

Maybe it's affection. Maybe there's affection for the boy he grew up with lurking somewhere, deep down.

Or maybe it's simply that Harry saved his life... maybe it's because of the debt he owes Harry.

...

Maybe he doesn't know a thing anymore.

...

This is stupid, Dudley thinks.

Harry probably doesn't even _remember_ saving my life.

Besides, what good's a cup of tea after all I've done to him?

...

Dudley almost empties the cup into the sink.

Almost.

* * *

Percy's really putting his neck on the line for George. He's supposed to be protecting these documents, but instead...

He's never been very good at protecting things, though, has he? For all his hard work under Mr Crouch, he'd merely been taking on the responsibilities rather than looking at what actually needed to be done.

He'd failed to protect Ginny in her second year. She'd attempted to confide in them, yet he'd rebuffed her. Dismissed her.

And Fred.

When Percy sternly presents George with this "vitally important" Ministry research, the prankster grins his thanks.

For a moment, Percy loses sight of his brother's ear...

...and smiles back.

* * *

They all tell him that he has gone through enough - sacrificed enough - and that this isn't his burden to bear.

Yet Harry bears it.

Hogwarts was his first true home, and these people... yes, he's exhausted, and no, this isn't the most pleasant of tasks...

Yet these are all people that Harry failed to protect.

If he had been stronger. If he had worked everything out _sooner_. Would these people still be alive? Would they be here with him now, smiling?

Or would they still have died?

He carries the dead into the ruined Hogwarts halls and thinks that, no, they probably wouldn't have done.


	8. RonAstoria

Challenge Name: choose a song title, get a line challenge

Challenge Issuer: The fantabulous **tat1312**, who also looked this over and gave me her much treasured seal of approval.

Where?: HPFC

Challenge: Choose one of the challenge song titles (I chose 'J'ai demandé à la lune', also not mine) and use given lyrics from that song as well as some kind of prompt/restriction to write a story. My lyrics were the ones in bold, and my restriction was to make this less than 500 words.

Notes: In French, 'adventure' can also mean 'affair'. Naturally, I love this double meaning and wanted to play on it. This is very simple, but I hope you'll enjoy it. :)

* * *

**and we said a few times**

- those first few times

**It was just an adventure**

- an affair's an adventure; safety is fidelity

**And it wouldn't last**

- of _course_ it wouldn't.

Nothing lasts.

**and we said a few times**

- Okay, maybe _more_ than a few times.

**It was just an adventure**

- "The ride of our lives"; and she'd smirked.

**And it wouldn't last**

as long as the lie of _his_ Hermione - the lie of _her_ Draco.

Because we'd made our beds: we'd lie in them.

(for a little while)

**and we said a few times**

those same tired words

**It was just an adventure**

It was just - it was just - an affair

**And it wouldn't last**

as long as it did.

As long as it has.

(for a longer while)


	9. Bellatrix Black

Challenge: Characters and Prompts (see chapter one) with the character **Bellatrix Lestrange** and the prompt **poetry**.

Dedicated to: All the (lovely) girls at the _Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful _forum.

Enjoy. :)

* * *

She is poetry in motion, Bellatrix Black. Only now, though, when she loses beside him, fighting that last desperate struggle that the cornered do.

Some would call her beautiful, in this moment.

You wouldn't think it when you see her twisting through this battle, slashing her wand and forcing people back from sheer _fear_, but there were times when she wasn't so sure of herself.

Making the only man who made her heart skip a beat want her... well, no matter what she'd tried, she'd never managed that.

Lying beneath the man that she settled for she was cold and heartless and anything _but_ beautiful.

I'm sure she'd want us to remember her at her very best and terrifying, not the scared little girl she was as she entered the Dark Lord's service, nor the heartsick woman who fell in love with the wrong person.

She'd want us to remember her as poetry in motion, ever moving and destroying and as close as she would ever get to happiness.


End file.
